Curious Wine Read Free Page B

“Which one do you want opened?”
    “You choose. My father’s the wine-lover. Anything I know, he taught me.”
    “Are you close to your father?”
    “Yes. Very close.” She watched Lane work the cork out with expertise.
    “Why don’t we take your luggage up now?”
    “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
    With a brief word of explanation to the other women who were gathered around the fire animatedly talking, Diana picked up her bag and followed Lane, climbing the ladder with ease.
    She stepped into a room filled with silver light from the window, illumination from the sky and snow. In the shadowy light she saw a brass bed, a sharply sloping ceiling, a small dresser and closet. Lane removed the glass from a kerosene lamp on the nightstand, struck a match to the wick. The pool of yellow light revealed details to Diana: a bright gingham quilt and fluffed up pillows, a circular braided rug, the raw wood of the ceiling.
    “Turn out the light and come over to the window.”
    Diana blew out the lamp and the room again filled with silvery light. “Oh,” she breathed as she reached the window.
    The sky was spread with stars, a glittering endless carpet. Trees, stark and white with snow, stood fantastically against the sky. Snow lay in dramatic sculptures, huge drifts casting immense powerful shadows.
    “Incredible,” murmured Diana, circling Lane with an arm in an involuntary seeking of physical closeness in this icy grandeur.
    They stood silent. Then Lane said, “It’s good to share the newness of this as well as the beauty.”
    “You’ve never been here before?”
    “No. Madge has asked me to come many times. She’s the only one here I know.”
    Diana smiled. “Do you think you can resist the temptation to strangle Chris?”
    Lane answered with an easy smile. “I meet Chrisses every day. But it’ll be nice having someone around to change the subject.”
    “I’m good at it,” Diana said wryly. “I suppose we’d better get down there and be sociable,” she said regretfully, staring out the window, releasing Lane.
    “Let me show you the rest.”
    A part of the pine wall slid back on a pulley system, revealing a narrow room with twin beds and a dresser.
    Lane said, “Why don’t we flip a coin for who sleeps where, and then alternate so we can both enjoy the big room?”
    “Why should we do that, Lane? There’s only a tiny window in here. That brass bed’s queen-size. Do you snore?”
    Lane grinned. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
    “Gnash your teeth? Kick? Sleepwalk? Then it’s settled.”
    They climbed down the ladder. Liz watched them, hands on her hips. “Everything okay up there?”
    “It’s fantastic,” Diana said.
    Liz smiled thinly. “It’s comfortable. Well-insulated, too. If you pull up the ladder and lower the trapdoor it holds the fireplace heat in pretty well all night. But turn the heater on if you get cold.”
    “How come we’re so lucky?” Diana asked.
    “Not so lucky. There’s no John, you have to drag your luggage up, it’s a pain in the ass.”
    “If I were you I’d sleep up there all the time.”
    “Millie,” Liz said abruptly, “get busy and play something.”
    “Diana, I’ll pour some wine,” Lane said, eyeing Liz.
    Millie strummed lightly and turned keys, adjusting the strings. Continuing to strum in a harmonic pattern, she sang “If I Were a Carpenter” in a thin pure voice, singing with clear simplicity.
    Madge and Chris applauded.
    “Hey Millie, that’s beautiful,” Diana said softly.
    “Nice,” Liz agreed.
    “Really,” Lane said.
    “Anything you want to hear? What about you, Lane?”
    “You’re doing fine. Anything you want to sing.”
    “What about you, Diana?” Millie asked. “What kind of music do you like?”
    “Sinatra, Ella, people like that. Peggy Lee is my favorite.”
    “How come somebody young as you likes such stodgy stuff?” Millie’s tone was artless.
    “It’s classic stuff.” Lane’s voice was cold.
    “Blame